


you can lean on me now (really)

by permutative



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Feelings, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/permutative/pseuds/permutative
Summary: Look: Jisung doesn’tgetChenle sometimes, but he sure as hell has a crush on him.
Relationships: Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 31
Kudos: 180
Collections: WIP OLYMPICS: WINTER 2020/21





	you can lean on me now (really)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moodmaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodmaker/gifts).
  * Inspired by [sucker for you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013193) by [moodmaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodmaker/pseuds/moodmaker). 



> cannot believe im writing chenji in the year 2020 but crys mythsick moodmaker can make me do anything it seems. written for crysmas ficmix <3.
> 
> title/epigraph come from 10 months love by enhypen aka the most chenji enhypen song i have listened to... crys please stan enhypen one day.

But wait  
My heart grew as much as my height  
All day all night  
— Enhypen, 10 Months

“Wanna head out?” Chenle asks, casual. He stands in the doorway, silhouette backlit, golden light diffusing all around him. “I’m going biking.”

Jisung blinks at him, then back down at his desk. Stray wrappers, half-crossed out lyrics sheets, a glass of water he hasn’t touched since noon. “Chenle.”

“Jisung.” Chenle tilts his head to the side, smiles at him like he knows Jisung’s going to say yes anyway. 

(Of course, Jisung will agree. But Chenle doesn’t have to look so _smug_ about it all the time)

“You know I can’t bike,” Jisung says. Another thing to add to his long list of minor failures, along with dropping out of middle school and getting his birthmark confused for acne on the regular. 

“I never said you had to,” Chenle shoots back easily. “You can ride on the back, you know.” With that, he turns his back to Jisung and walks away, not even checking to see if Jisung will follow. 

Look: Jisung doesn’t _get_ Chenle sometimes, but he sure as hell has a crush on him. 

“Um.” Jisung sits down on the back of the bike gingerly. The past couple of years have been an exercise in navigating his own body— _growing pains,_ as Jaemin would affectionately call it—but he’s pretty sure he’s experiencing peak awkwardness while balanced precariously on the wiry end of his best friend’s bicycle. 

“Are you sure this is safe?” he asks to Chenle’s back. It’s dark out, the sun already long gone from the sky, but there’s enough light for Jisung to soak in all the small details: the little hairs at the back of Chenle’s neck, the wrinkled material of his shirt, the gentle slope of his arms. 

(When did Chenle stop being cute and skip right to _handsome_? It’s just unfair, really)

“It’ll be fine,” Chenle promises. He looks back to meet Jisung’s eyes. “Just hold on if you’re scared of falling, alright?”

“Okay,” Jisung agrees. He reaches out tentatively, presses his palms to Chenle’s shoulders, and grasps on. 

“Hold on tight,” Chenle repeats as he starts to pedal in earnest. Surprisingly, Jisung doesn’t keel over immediately, even if his legs still dangle oddly over the side of Chenle’s bike. 

The night is cool, almost misty in Jisung’s face, but Chenle’s body is warm under his fingertips. Jisung closes his eyes, lets the wind rush by him. It’s like water pouring past him, a river he can’t control. 

(Overflowing, constantly overflowing)

Sometimes it seems like the problem, that Jisung can’t let go. His feelings for Chenle are getting deeper and deeper: like reaching the far end of a swimming pool, his toes unable to touch the bottom. 

Even so, Jisung feels steady, tethered to Chenle’s back and the whirring metal bike. He leans forward, rests his chin on Chenle’s shoulder, and smiles. 

Jaemin complains about them on the radio one time and says, “Chenle and Jisung don’t have serious fights. They just bicker about stupid shit.” 

(Okay, maybe there’s some mild paraphrasing on Jisung’s part)

And that’s true _now,_ to a certain extent. They’ve never had a dispute reaching the levels of Mark’s summer fight with Donghyuck, or Doyoung’s icy rage after Jaehyun unplugged his fridge for a week. But Jisung still remembers the time Chenle had given him the cold shoulder. It’s been a while since then, sure, but Jisung has always had a good memory for two things: dance choreography and Zhong Chenle. 

After they made up—resolving things just as they started, with more bottle flipping—Jisung slept in the living room that night. As always he lay with his back to the floor, hard surface cushioned by layers of blankets. It goes without saying who took the couch. 

(Chenle. It’s always Chenle, for him)

“We’re okay now, right?” Jisung asked, on the edge of falling asleep. 

Chenle muffled a yawn behind the back of his hand. “Why wouldn’t we be, Jisung?” He sounded distant, far away, as if his voice came from underwater. 

Jisung craned his neck, wishing he could make out Chenle’s expression from this angle. Instead, all he had got was the couch blocking half his vision on the left and the cracked ceiling above him and a hand—

“Yah,” Jisung said when Chenle’s fingertips brushed against his chest. “What are you doing?” He was used to the aggressive poking, the incessant slapping when Jisung screeched _wait wait wait_ during video games, but this touch felt wholly different. Searching, almost hesitant. 

Chenle didn’t respond, just rooted around blindly for a couple of moments before grabbing Jisung’s hand. 

“Yah,” Jisung repeated half-heartedly. The angle felt awkward, to say the least, and Jisung wasn’t sure whether he particularly enjoyed having his wrist bent at such an angle.

(As for whether he enjoyed having Chenle’s hand in his, well)

He felt hyper aware of everything around him, from the sweat drying on his palms to the cotton undershirt lying against his skin. In the quiet, dim living room, he could hear the soft exhales of Chenle’s breathing and the buzzing of the dorm’s A/C unit. He wondered if Chenle could tell how he felt— 

“Shut up,” Chenle replied, interrupting Jisung’s train of thought. He squeezed Jisung’s hand. “You think too much. You don’t have to figure it all out in one day, okay.”

"Thanks," Jisung said, hoping that would be enough. 

(He loves writing, enjoys putting his thoughts to words, but at that moment he had been rendered speechless)

Sometimes Jisung thinks Chenle can be unexpectedly caring. 

(Not that it’s wholly surprising, at this point. Jisung likes to think he’s got a better handle on who Zhong Chenle is after years of friendship)

But still: he’s never quite prepared for Chenle’s sudden urges to cup his face, hand to cheek, and look over his skin (read: acne) with keen eyes. This time they’re waiting backstage for their turn to go record. As is usual during their comebacks, Jisung had only managed around four hours of sleep; of course, his skin suffered. 

(“It’s because you need to drink more water,” Chenle always says to him. If they’re in the dorms, he’ll shove a glass of it into Jisung’s hands. Another form of rough-gentle affection, casual and simple. 

But Jisung’s drowning already, every part of his life feels like it’s overflowing, he doesn’t want to get reminded of it)

“I don’t get why you always do that,” Jisung grumbles. He looks away from Chenle, whose entire body is far too close for comfort. Donghyuck’s annoying Jaemin again, judging by the look on Mark’s face, and Renjun watches it all with a bored look on his face. Typical. 

Under the bright lights of the waiting room, confined within his tight performance outfit, Jisung is experiencing the exact opposite of what he wants. 

(A common fantasy: they’re hidden in the safety of the darkness, Chenle’s eyes shine in the night, their fingers intertwine and everything is soft and beautiful—)

“Do what?” Chenle asks. Jisung’s back to observing Chenle warily, watching as his eyes trail over Jisung’s cheeks slowly. He feels like he’s being read, like he’s staring back at something unreadable. 

“That. Y’know,” Jisung mumbles. “Checking my face.” He pauses, then adds: “What are you even looking for?”

Chenle smiles: a little mysterious, a little beautiful. “I’ll tell you when I find it,” he says, fingers brushing across Jisung’s cheek. A quiet gentleness, hidden in plain sight: the most obvious secret. 

“Okay,” Jisung breathes. He thinks he might get it, for once. 

Maybe he still doesn’t understand Chenle from time to time. But every day, he’s getting closer, he’s wading in deeper. 

(How can he be afraid of drowning, when he has Chenle right with him?)

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this is bad i wrote it based off of 40min of chenji youtube content, lol [twitter](https://twitter.com/storyboxed) \+ [cc](http://curiouscat.qa/axiomatic)
> 
> comments are appreciated~


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